Broken Shards
by AbsintheZ
Summary: After seven long years the war has ended. The world is rejoicing, yet the last thing that the survivors feel like doing is celebrating. Friendships are being tried, and all that is left is to sift through the ashes and pick up the pieces of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes:

First of all, these characters and world aren't mine. Second, this is completely cannon through the sixth book (or at least could be). But I started it before the seventh, so nothing from the seventh book is taken into consideration. Third, this story assumes that the war started more or less directly after the sixth book, but that Harry etc finished their seventh year as planned. The war was won roughly six years later. This takes place roughly one year after that. That makes Harry and the kids in his year roughly 24-25 years old.

The newspaper fluttered down the empty alley and eventually fell into a puddle of stale rainwater. Moisture quickly seeped into the crinkled pages, blurring the print slightly. It was dated two days before. _Extra Edition_, the top proudly proclaimed, just above the paper's unusual title, _The Daily Prophet_. Halfway down the page, below an old picture of a boy who had long since grown, read the headline:

_Boy-Who-Lived Destroys You-Know-Who_.

_Wizarding__ World Rejoices_.


	2. CHapter 2

Harry groaned when he heard Hermione walk in through the fireplace. She always showed up when he didn't want her company. But then, it had been a long time since he had wanted her company. Slipping off her cloak, Hermione walked around the small flat until she was facing Harry where he lay on the couch. He met her gaze but made no attempt at a greeting. She critically stared at the bottle in his hand before moving out of his vision. With some effort, Harry sat up and turned to watch her open his fridge. She was muttering something to herself. Harry didn't have to ask what about. Rubbing his eyes, he decided to break the silence.

"Good of you to come," he said coldly, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose I should feel honored that you pulled yourself away from work long enough to grace me with your presence."

Hermione didn't bother turning around to answer just as icily, "It's my lunch break."

Harry gave a dry laugh. "So you've finally decided to stop working through your lunches. What will the Ministry do, losing you for a full hour?"

"I'm only taking a half hour."

"Ah, well, that explains it. Have you decided to actually eat during the day as well, or are you only able to find time to bother old friends?"

"I eat," she snapped, finally turning back to him. "And I don't drink."

Harry snorted when he caught sight of her furious expression. "Don't worry, Hermione. I eat, too. When I think of it."

"How can you sit there?" she hissed with contempt. "There's still so much that needs to be done. And you just sit here, brewing in your own pathetic misery."

"How can you pretend you actually care? Look, I'll let you in on a little secret. Saving the world isn't all it's cracked up to be. The pay is horrible and the compensations are a laugh. Trust me, I've already tried," he answered, swallowing his anger and another mouthful of firewhiskey.

"You've got to stop this," Hermione said, pointedly ignoring his comments. "You've got to get up and stop drinking. You can't mourn forever."

This time Harry didn't try to hide the anger that flashed in his eyes. "Maybe not," he hissed dangerously, "but at least I remember instead of pretending none of it even happened, that none of them ever lived."

Without thinking she reached out and grabbed the bottle from his hand before smashing it against the wall, strewing glass and alcohol across the room. Harry merely blinked at her before slowly standing up and moving towards the fridge. By the time he had opened another bottle, he had already heard the quiet pop that told him she had apparated back to her office.


	3. Chapter 3

Lee arrived with a telltale little pop and took a moment to reorient himself. Beside him, Katie had immediately burst into a fit of giggles, and, turning, he saw why. Fred lay on the couch only half dressed, underneath a girl wearing even less. Fred opened his eyes blearily and looked with mild annoyance at Lee, who by now was trying his hardest not to laugh. "Don't you knock?" he asked with a yawn.

Lee gave up and laughed aloud. "Honestly, mate, you have a bedroom; why don't you use it? Save us all a headache this early in the morning."

By now the girl had fully grasped the situation and was struggling to get up and find some clothes. Katie slipped into the kitchen as the girl began to shriek curses at the two men. Lee tried to stifle his laughter as he watched the poor girl furiously yanking on her shirt. Fred, on the other hand, did nothing to hide his large trademark grin as he took in the girl's many creative insults. She soon disapperated, her screams still echoing throughout the house.

"Aw, come on, mate," Fred said good naturedly as he followed Lee to the kitchen. "Why'd you have to go and scare her away? I really liked that one."

Lee rolled his eyes. "I doubt that. But I'll humor you anyway. What was her name, then?"

"Stella. No Celina. Or Celeste. Something like that, anyway."

"Honestly," laughed Katie, "I don't know what makes you think we scare them all away. You do that just fine on your own. And get a shirt on; there's no one left here to impress."

Fred gave a wicked grin as he noticed her eyes travel over his chest, which earned him a quick punch in the shoulder from Lee. "I'd watch that wife of yours, if I were you," Fred said casually as he slipped on a shirt from the floor.

"Don't you tease my man," Katie chided without moving her eyes from the cupboard she was looking through. "You know I only have eyes for Lee."

Fred snorted. "You have eyes for every hot guy in the country. I just happen to be one of the hotter ones."

"She may be looking at a few other guys," said Lee, moving a hand protectively around one of her hips, "But I'm the only one she ever plans on going home with. And even that weren't entirely true, which it is," and here he gave Fred a mock glare, "we all know what would happen to the man who tried to touch her."

"Mm, my hero," cooed Katie. Fred smiled at the two but turned away when they kissed. "Do you have anything in here that isn't mostly sugar?"

"I have no idea. At this point, I think you know my kitchen better than I do."

"Right, then I suppose it's French toast."

Sitting next to Fred, Lee spread out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ across the table and pointed to an article on the second page. "High praise for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." Fred nodded and feigned interest, but Lee was pretty sure that he was only staring at the page rather than actually reading it. "Fred," Lee began cautiously, not wanting to restart their argument of a week ago, "why don't you come live with us? You know we have room."

"I am not going to impose myself on my newlywed friends," Fred began in an exasperated tone, repeating the same points they had already gone over. "You two don't want someone else hanging around. And besides, I'm fine."

"You wouldn't be imposing on us," Katie responded as she moved to the fridge. She refused to look at the photos on the door before she quickly grabbed the eggs and moved back over to the counter. "We're inviting you. We want you to come."

"It's still imposing, and you are still newlyweds. It isn't polite, and I'm not going to move in with you."

"It isn't polite to refuse an invitation, either," Lee countered.

"You don't even have the room for me. You live in that nice little flat and it really isn't big enough for three."

"There's plenty of room, and you know that. When we picked the place we made sure there would always be room for you."

Fred gave a skeptical look, even though he knew perfectly well it was true. "I have to stay by the shop. I need to get here early and I stay late."

"You stay later than you need to," Katie pointed out. "Besides, we manage to get over here just about every morning before you go downstairs, anyway."

"If you still aren't happy with that arrangement, we could stay here for a while. There's room, and we wouldn't mind," Lee added.

"No, there is not any room," Fred answered a little too quickly and a little too harshly. Lee and Katie exchanged a quick look. There was a second bedroom that could have accommodated the two quite comfortably. But that was George's old room, and George was still a forbidden subject. Katie shook her head slightly, warning Lee not to press the subject. Seeming to regret that he had snapped at his friends, Fred added in a quieter tone, "I'm fine. Really."

Lee sighed and put his head in his hands. "No, mate, you're not. You're a bloody mess. You're place is a disaster, and you aren't taking care of yourself. I don't think you know what you're doing with your business anymore; you keep forgetting things that you shouldn't, and if it weren't for that girl you have keeping your books, I doubt your store could even stay open. Everyday I worry you're going to end up killing yourself with one of your stupid experiments. I don't even know if you eat when we don't come around and set food down in front of you." Raising his head, he watched his friend's expression. "You don't, do you?" When he received no answer, he gave another ragged sigh. "And as long as I've already rambled on this far, how about all those girls? Are you doing anything to protect yourself? Or them, for that matter? Do you let them know what they're getting into? That you can't make yourself stay with any of them for more than a day, maybe two, because you're still in love with you old girlfriend? I'm scared that if you don't blow yourself up in some bloody experiment, you're going to get some sort of STD, and I'm not going to be able to do anything to help you. Please, Fred. We care about you; we love you. Please try to fix yourself up, for us. Even if you don't care what the hell happens to you, we do. And it's killing me to watch you fall apart like this. Can't you at least... eat when we're not here? Something, it doesn't have to be much. Please, Fred."

The room's silence was unbroken except for the French toast frying in the pan. Katie turned around nervously and watched the two boys. Lee hadn't meant to say all of that, she knew. In fact all three had been carefully avoiding it for some time.

Katie bit her lip as her husband roughly brushed a stray tear from his cheek. And still it remained quiet. The silence seemed to last an eternity. None of them felt they could break it. When Fred finally did, his face was emotionless, unreadable. Without looking directly at either of them, he answered flatly, "I'm fine."


	4. Chapter 4

"Fine," Theodore answered the man before following him behind the pub. The man watched him with interest for a moment before unbuttoning his trousers for the boy. He knew what he was doing, this boy; he was quick and efficient and talented. When he had finished, the man tossed him the small bag he'd promised.

"That should last you a couple days," he said, turning back towards the bar. The boy grabbed the bag without a word and turned to walk away without giving any hint that he had even registered what he'd just done. The man shook his head at the retreating form, disconcerted by his calmness.

Theodore walked down another two streets before he turned off into an alley and sat in an empty doorway. He didn't notice that he was shivering, and he barely felt the water seeping through his torn cloak. Instead, all of his attention seemed to be focused on the small bag he held in front of him. The small green pills almost shimmered in the dim light of the cracked streetlamp at the corner. Beautiful, he thought.

_Beautiful.__My beautiful boy.__ You are so beautiful, my little __child_.

He quickly downed three pills. He leaned his head back against the brick wall and closed his eyes, waiting for the dreams to set in.

_Don__t close your eyes. Why would you close your eyes? It__s beautiful. __My beautiful child_.

It wasn't long before he forgot where he was, until the walls disappeared and he didn't have to listen anymore.

_My beautiful little boy_.

She almost walked right past. She didn't want to look. There were too many men on the streets, too many hungry children, too many vagabonds without homes. It was easier not to look. But when she almost tripped over him, she had to look.

Tracey Davis quietly cursed herself. She muttered a hasty apology to the man as she quickly picked herself up and made sure she had still had a firm grasp on her purse. He was too far gone to take notice of her fall or apology, she realized as she glanced at his face. Suddenly she gasped as she stared at the familiar features.

"Theo?" she asked quietly. It was a pointless question; he obviously was past answering. Besides, she knew that it was. Even in the torn and ill-fitting clothes, even with his hair tangled and dark with dirt, even after over six years, she would still recognize him anywhere. Seven years of sharing a dorm had that affect.

Kneeling beside him she ran a hand lightly over his forehead. He was a mess, nothing like the impeccably well kempt boy she had known in school. He was delirious and slightly feverish. Glancing down at his hands and wrists she noted with some surprise how thin he had become.

"Oh, Theo, what happened to you? What have you done to yourself?" She briefly looked up and down the street before coming to a decision. "Come on," she whispered quietly, stroking back his hair. "Let's get you home."


	5. Chapter 5

At home the silence threatened to consume her. The only sounds in the small flat were the ticking of the clock and the scratching of her quill. Had it been winter, the crackling fire might have lessened the oppressiveness of the silence, but in the sticky beginnings of summer there was nothing to distract Hermione from her own pulse echoing in the empty room.

Tapping her quill against the parchment, she tried to make sense of the figures in front of her. "So let's see..." she began to mutter to herself; "that leaves... that leaves... seven hundred twenty nine pounds--no, sickles--I mean galleons--which should match up with..." She quickly flipped through the papers in an orange file until she found the number she needed. It didn't match her new figure. With an annoyed hissing sound, she tossed the file across the desk. She immediately picked up her quill to start the calculations over, but the words and numbers seemed to float haphazardly in front of her. Hoping to soothe her vision, Hermione ran a hand over her raw eyes. For a moment she was tempted to stay like that, eyes closed; maybe she would even put her head down on the desk to catch up on some much needed sleep. Instead, she quickly stood and moved to the kitchen. What she needed was a cold glass of water.

The water had the desired effect, waking her senses enough to continue the day. As she leaned against the counter, her thoughts were drawn to the only source of sound in the room. Ron had picked out the clock. It was tacky, red and black plastic, but he had been fascinated by the contraption, the loud clicking noise it made serving as proof to him that it was indeed running by itself without magic. Although the framed photos that had hung on either side of it had long since been taken down, Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to put away the ridiculous clock. And the second hand kept moving around at its maddeningly steady pace.

Abruptly, Hermione set her half emptied glass in the sink and strode back into the other room. Sweeping up her various files and papers, she made her way to the fireplace and took a handful of floo powder. She wasn't expected at the office for another two or three hours, but at work there was no deafening silence.


	6. Chapter 6

Luna was late for work. She walked briskly up the stairs, still adjusting her nameplate. When she reached the third floor, she was tempted to continue to the fourth. Silently admonishing herself she stayed on the third floor and made her way to the central healers' station. She was late, so her usual first stop would have to wait until her break. Upon reaching the station, she paused to straighten her lime green healer robes and catch her breath.

"You're late," said a slightly amused voice. Luna gave a small smile to the woman sitting across the counter.

"Only a little."

The women laughed. "Only twenty minutes. Where were you? Please tell me you were at home and not just upstairs. There's no excuse for losing track of time when you're only a floor away."

"Don't worry. I was with David," Luna replied simply, referring to her husband.

"And how is he doing?"

"He's doing well, thank you. But I thought I was late. Shouldn't you be telling me where I'm stationed?"

"Yes, yes, dear. But small talk should always come first, I find. Let's see... you'll be in the Hyatt ward today."

"Thanks."

"No problem, sweetheart."

The morning was mostly uneventful. Two children who had fallen into a patch of warweed; a man whose skin was slowly frosting over from eating winter roses; and a man with a bright red and orange polka dotted rash from handling acornian roots.

Luna walked into the room of her last patient of the morning quite cheerfully. When she had nearly reached the man's bed, she finally looked at him and began to give a reassuring smile. But the smile froze on her lips, and she suddenly felt as though she would choke on her heart. The man was bleeding, blood slowing seeping from the palms of his hands and the backs of his arms. Luna tried to swallow, to move, to assure herself that she was still at St. Mungo's, that it was only one man, bleeding from only a few places. But she couldn't. All she could do was stare as she felt the walls slowly crash down around her.

"Luna!" someone snapped, making her jump. Luna turned toward Caitlin, glad to have found something different on which to focus. Caitlin was biting her lip, brow furrowed, and it suddenly occurred to Luna to clam her breathing. "Are you okay?" Caitlin finally asked.

Luna gave a less than convincing nod. Caitlin hesitated for a moment before Christopher, the head healer, cut in. "Well, it's almost your break, right? Look, we'll just finish up with Mr. McInnis here, and you can go on break a little early. Alright?"

Luna nodded again, gave a small, thankful smile, and walked briskly out of the room. "That's why she's on the plant and poisoning floor," Luna heard Christopher whisper to Caitlin as she left. "There's usually no blood."

Luna didn't have to think as she found her way onto the closed ward on the fourth floor; she had been coming here at least three or four times a week for the past six years. "Hello, Hannah," Luna gave a bright smile to the girl on the bed. Her smile was returned by an innocent, distracted one. Luna sat down and ran a hand over the girl's pale corn-colored hair, still in two long plaits down her back, just like it had been at school. She wondered momentarily how Hannah would have worn her hair now that she was a young woman, if she had ever been given the choice. Because she was a young woman, Luna reminded herself, even if the vacant expression suggested that of a child.

Sighing, Luna glanced at the bed next to Hannah where a boy--young man, she corrected herself--was sleeping. He looked so very calm in sleep, she thought, watching his slow breath. After a moment of watching, she raised her eyes from the dreaming form of Colin Creevey and began to tell Hannah of her day.


	7. Chapter 7

Tracey lowered her eyes to Theodore's sleeping form. He was lying calmly for the first time in days. True, he still had a fever, but he was infinitely better than when Tracey had first brought him to her house. It had been a little over a week. She was tired and annoyed and infuriated with him, but she still refused to leave his bedside while she was at home. She was determined that he would be well again. Determined ambition, she thought with a sigh, exactly the qualities that had put her in Theo's school house in the first place.

Theodore shifted, attracting her momentary attention. Tracey didn't know what he had been doing during the last seven or eight months since he had been released from Azkaban, but she felt she could make a pretty good guess. In truth, though, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. It was something better left unsaid, something she didn't want to deal with.

Stretching, her eyes wandered to a photograph beside the bed. It had been taken during their fifth year at school. It was everyone in their house and year, all smiling, blithely unconcerned for the future. It was hard to look at. Crabbe and Goyle were off to the side, both in Azkaban for life. Millicent, on the opposite side, also in Azkaban. Draco, standing in front, dead, killed by aurors. Pansy, center, held in Draco's arms, dead, killed by the Dark Lord for some failure. Blaise, in the back, also dead, killed himself without leaving an explanation. Daphne, left center, disappeared three years ago, presumed dead.

Tracey hadn't been best friends with all of them, of course. In fact, she had detested Crabbe and Goyle, and had thought that Millicent was a complete idiot and Pansy a catty bitch. But it hurt to know that she was the only one left. Her, and Theodore lying partially delirious on the bed.

"You better be okay, Nott," she said suddenly in a cold voice, "because I can't handle being the only one left in that picture. If you aren't okay, I'll find a way to make you pay for leaving me alone. Do you understand that?" Then, knowing that he couldn't hear her, she walked briskly from the room, away from the naive and smiling kids in the photograph.


	8. Chapter 8

Fred tried to ignore the smiling pictures sitting on the bedside table. But the framed characters seemed to demand his attention. It was late, he was tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He closed his eyes against the room, but they flew open again at a loud crash from the street below, followed by a cat's angry screech.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side and stared at the photos. The one in the red frame had the most activity. It had been taken years before, before he had even started at Hogwarts. His parents stood in the background, looking affectionately exasperated. In the foreground Fred pulled on one of Ginny's pigtails, while Ron laughed at her efforts to claw his hand. Percy was chasing George, who had stolen his glasses, and Charlie was talking animatedly to Bill, who was holding Ginny's puffskein to keep it from being trampled by Percy and George. Fred only vaguely remembered the occasion, and had thought that they must not have known that the photo was actually being taken at that moment, but his mum insisted that the children had known, they just refused to stay still.

With sudden decision, Fred jumped up and turned on the light before pulling a mostly empty box from under his bed. He began to carelessly toss the frames into the box: another, much calmer family portrait, this one without Percy but with the addition of Harry and Hermione; one of him, George, and Lee shaking with laughter on the living room floor; one of his quidditch team from fifth year, each of them mud-covered, soaked, and smiling; another of Bill, Ron, and Ginny on their trip to Egypt. He paused before the last photo. Angelina sat with her head resting on Fred's shoulders, his arms tightly around her. Neither of them were laughing, like the earlier pictures, it was too late in the war for that, but they were both happy and smiling nevertheless. Sighing, Fred set it back on the table and then carefully replaced the others as well. With only a slight hesitation he put the box back under the bed.

Standing up swiftly, Fred grabbed his cloak and headed outside. Sleep could wait. Right now he needed to get out of his house.


	9. Chapter 9

Despite the light rain, Lavender was glad to be outside; she had needed to get out of her apartment. She had no particular destination in mind as she clicked down the sidewalk in her stilettos. There weren't very many cars driving past this late at night, not on this street, at any rate, and the busy city of London almost felt calm.

Lavender preferred the city streets to her empty apartment because she never felt alone, even in the relative desertedness of night. It was strange, how after all this time of living by herself she still feared the lonely hours of night.

_Oh, little girl, you must be so lonely, here all alone in your cell. We'll make sure you aren't lonely._

Lavender shivered and pulled some damp strands of hair from her eyes. The drizzle was slowly seeping through her thin jacket, and her fingers were beginning to ache from the occasional cold gust of wind. She glanced around. Soon she would have to go inside somewhere. A pub, perhaps, she thought. Preferably a muggle one. There was always a pub open, no matter how late.

_We told you we'd come back. You didn't think we would just leave you here, did you? A pretty girl like yourself? No, of course we came back._

Stifling a yawn, she watched a couple walk down the street ahead of her. Of course, it would make more sense to go home and sleep, but the last thing she wanted to do was sleep. Glancing sideways, she noticed a car slowing down. When it was even with her, the driver rolled down the passenger side window and leaned toward her.

"Hey, you look like you could use some company," the man told Lavender silkily. "Do you want to come back to my place? It's warm; you could spend the night. I'd get you a nice hot meal, and I'm sure we could entertain ourselves until morning."

_Don't pretend you don't like the attention. We know you like all the attention. Isn't that right?_

Lavender gave her best painted smile and nodded. She didn't bother to say anything as she got into the car; introductions could wait until later. The man was older, a business man, perhaps. Lavender sighed and looked out the window. She had been desperate to be with someone. And now she would not be alone tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

With a desperate air, Theodore walked through the bathroom, staggering slightly. He quickly opened her medicine cabinet and began clumsily looking through the pill bottles. There had to be something he could take. In his rush several bottles fell to the floor, and he had to bend down to pick them up. He laughed aloud as he read the label of the one nearest the counter. "My, my, Tracey. We aren't so different in the end, are we? You just happen to have a prescription. Wonder how you pulled that off." With another short laugh, he quickly downed five of the pills. Suddenly drained of energy, he leaned over the sink, secure in the knowledge that soon the pain would dull. He stood back up after several minutes and calmly closed the cabinet door. But he was arrested by the face he caught in the mirror. He felt his chest constrict as he stared at the spot where his own reflection should have been, but instead only his father's face stared back. He had to grab the sink as his head began to spin. His was transfixed by that same brown hair, by those same murky eyes, by that same god damn sneer. "Leave me alone!" he yelled at the phantom. His fist collided with the mirror a second after the image had already resolved back to a disheveled Theo. Panting, he watched as the silver shards crashed down to the floor.

The smashed mirror held his attention for a long time. He needed something stronger than Tracey's prescription, he decided suddenly. Much stronger. He stepped over the shattered glass and left the rest of the pill bottles on the floor. Tracey could deal with it. He didn't care. He paused only momentarily at the door. Tracey would be upset, but he couldn't focus on that thought. He needed to find some stronger drugs, and fast.


	11. Chapter 11

Fred looked around the pub hoping he wouldn't find any familiar faces. After a moment he felt relatively sure that he didn't know anyone here, with the possible exception of a tired looking woman near the door who looked vaguely familiar.

Taking a deep drink of his firewhiskey, he leaned comfortably against the bar and began to watch the people around him. He had been sitting there for nearly an hour when the girl entered the pub. She walked with a sort of ragged grace, as though she was afraid that her high heels might not quite hold her weight. Her clothes were expensive, but had that quality which suggested that they were owned second hand. She didn't look around until she had taken a seat at the bar and ordered a drink.

Her eyes wandered appraisingly until they met Fred's. "Are you just going to stare," she asked with a slight smile, "or are you going to come over and introduce yourself?"

Fred gave an easy smile in return and slipped over a seat so that he was next to her. "Fred, and I would never dream of being so rude as to stare without intending to meet the person."

The girl smiled and offered her hand. "Christine. And I wish the rest of the men here were so courteous. That man," she said, inclining her head, "is here every night, and all he does is stare. I find it quite unnerving. But I suppose I've grown used to it. You're new here?"

Fred nodded and took another drink. She was wearing too much makeup, and certainly too much eyeliner, but she was pretty nonetheless, he decided. "I've been here a few times, but generally I have other haunts I prefer."

Christine looked at him shrewdly a moment before asking lightly, "Muggle ones, you mean?"

"Yes, as well as other wizarding establishments. This particular pub is not conveniently located for me."

Christine laughed a little. "And the crowd is not so attractive as you might find elsewhere. I'm sure that figures into your calculations more than the location."

"On the contrary," Fred responded warmly, "I find the company here to be most delightful."

Christine rolled her eyes but looked pleased nonetheless. "So what do you do for a living, Fred?"

"I own a joke shop."

"Wizard or muggle? Not Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?" she added after a moment of thought.

"Exactly that. Mostly I spend my time inventing new products."

"It all seems rather trivial now, doesn't it? Jokes and games, I mean."

Fred nodded. "But people must be entertained."

"Yes, I suppose there are still some people who laugh."

"There are some people," Fred agreed.

The two chatted politely for some time as one by one, or occasionally in pairs, people left. Eventually Christine hinted that she, too, had to be heading home. Fred quickly agreed to walk her there. "You know," Christine said in a wistful voice, beginning the question Fred had been expecting, "it's such a shame going home to an empty house. It's so very lonely. Perhaps you wouldn't mind stopping in for a drink before you left?"

"I could. But then, you know, it would be too late for me to return to my own place," he gave the answer he knew she was hoping for.

"Well then, you could always just spend the night at my place. You could leave right away in the morning, of course. And I can make a very good breakfast."

Fred agreed calmly, as though the idea would never have occurred to him had she not suggested it. She smiled and led the way out of the pub. Fred took the final sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down on the bar and following Christine out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry picked up his glass and took another drink. He had a terrible headache, and voices kept running through his mind. He couldn't understand why the voices wouldn't just leave him alone.

_Ginny laughed brightly. "Honestly, Harry, supper was wonderful. You're really not a bad cook. I mean, you're not exactly a _good _cook, but you're not bad either. What?" she asked with renewed laughter. "It was a compliment!"_

His neighbor was playing a radio loudly. Harry considered yelling at him to turn it down, but decided it was too much work. Instead he just tried to ignore it. He wasn't having much luck.

_Harry watched Ginny as she slept on his bed. She looked so calm. He stroked her hair from her face before standing up to leave. "Where are you going?" she asked sleepily without opening her eyes._

_"Out. I'll be back before you wake up."_

_She opened her eyes now and looked at him unhappily. "No, you won't. Just promise me you will be back."_

_"I promise I'll be back, safe and sound. Nothing can keep me from coming back to you."_

He rubbed his eyes to clear them as he got up to get another firewhiskey. He wasn't going to work tomorrow, he decided. And anyone who complained be damned.

_"So I told him that I had no idea that it was important, and that I had thought it was _supposed _to turn blue," Ron was saying animatedly to gales of laughter, "and, well, of course he just felt horrible. So he promised to refund the entire cost, and _he_ actually apologized to _me_ for the whole ordeal."_

_Harry was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "Oh, Ron," Hermione said, wiping tears from her eyes and still giggling, "Ron, you're simply _horrible_!"_

_"No," Ginny laughed, "you're wonderful!"_

Hermione would be furious. For a moment he felt guilty at disappointing her further, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. She had more important things to worry about than him, he decided. If she wanted to be upset, let her.

_Harry leaned closer to the book as Hermione explained her findings._

_"So, what does all that actually mean?" Ron asked finally._

_"It means," she answered, "we have to be very careful."_

His head still hurt, and the pain wasn't going away. But he was tired now. Sleep, he thought, and deal with the rest in the morning.

_"I'll be fine!" Ginny said, exasperated. "You go with Ron and Hermione and focus on finding Bellatrix. Luna and I can handle Flint. I dealt with him in school a hundred times. We'll meet you back at headquarters. Now go!"_

Harry made his way to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, falling quickly into a blessedly dreamless sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Luna sat up in bed with a start, golden hair falling around her, over her face, in her eyes. Breathing shallowly, she looked next to her. David was still sleeping peacefully, undisturbed. So she must not have cried out aloud. Watching his still form, she felt a rush of love for him. Slipping on a robe, she made her way to the window. The world was still dark, trees silhouetted in the moonlight, the distant city glittering with light. She could hear the wind moving through the branches, making her shiver.

_Looney Luna. Looney Luna Lovegood. And how is the loon today?_

With a start, Luna pulled away from the window and moved to the kitchen. She calmly filled a mug with water and placed it in the microwave, too tired to use the stove. She began searching through the pantry selves for a tea bag. Cereal and pasta, canned soup and flour, there had to be tea bags in here somewhere. Move the cardboard boxes, look past the glass jars. Somewhere in here. Rearranging the closet, she overbalanced a package, and it fell to the floor with a crash that resonated loudly in the predawn silence.

_What? Can't find you books again? Lost another quill? Maybe you just don't know where to look_.

Luna bent over to pick up the packet, and when she straightened, she found the box of tea bags immediately, sitting right there, at the very front of the shelf. With an inward shrug, she took a bag and moved back to the microwave to get the now hot water. Sitting down at the small kitchen table, Luna watched as the water slowly darkened. The colors swirled around the glass, and Luna was reminded briefly of her dream. Blurred faces, muddy clothes, swirling blood.

_What is Looney Lovegood wearing today? Do you think she even realizes her wand is stuck in her hair? I bet she won't remember. Maybe it will set off accidentally and set those stupid butterbeer corks on fire. I hope it does_.

She took a sip of the tea and burned her tongue. More careful, she would have to be more careful. She glanced at the digital clock above the stove. 5:16. 5:17. The sun would start to show before too long. 5:18. She took another sip of tea, avoiding getting burned this time. She was thinking of the dream again. She was always thinking of the dream. Always the same faces, the same unblinking stares. 5:20. She was tired. But she refused to close her eyes. She couldn't close her eyes. Instead she focused on the yellow wallpaper.

_She's a weirdo. Don't bother whispering. It's not like she ever listens. She never pays attention when she reads that ridiculous _Quibbler_. She believes every word of it, you know. Her father writes it, or edits it, or something like that. He believes it, too. He's just as Looney as his daughte_r.

Setting the mug back down, Luna began to absently braid her hair. Don't think about the dreams. Think of something better. Think of David in the park, hair full of leaves, head leaning back against her knees. He was asking about fairies again. Every time he seemed surprised when she confirmed that they really weren't the wonderfully beneficent creatures his muggle story books had made them out to be. Think of his smile, grinning up at her goofily, his laugh filling her ears, ringing in the morning air.

_How can you help but laugh? Did you see her outfit? Look at her blank stare. She isn't paying any attention. She's always like that. Don't worry. It's not like she ever hears us, anyway_.

5:32. It was still dark. She drained the tea and put the mug in the sink. Deal with it tomorrow. Today, rather. It was already tomorrow. 5:34. Sighing, Luna walked back to the bedroom and slipped out of her robe. Maybe this time she wouldn't dream. Maybe she would just sleep, and not see those blank eyes staring at her accusingly. She touched David's cheek before closing her eyes again. She slept for nearly half an hour before the dreams returned. They always did.


	14. Chapter 14

Theodore woke from his dream hazily, trying to remember where he was. He slowly became aware that someone was lying behind him, and he froze, beginning to panic. But the body was small, he noted, willing his heart to calm again. Carefully shifting, he turned to see Tracey asleep beside him, on top of the covers and still fully dressed. Theo moved to sit on the edge of the bed, where he watched her sleep.

She really was beautiful, especially as she lay in sleep, her usual tired and worried expression smoothed away. There had been a time at Hogwarts when she always looked like she did now, her angelic features calm and untroubled. His gaze drifted to her chest, gently rising and falling. He let his eyes wander upwards, past her delicate jaw to her now hollow cheeks, resting on her too pale forehead. There had been a time... but here Theo's thoughts broke off raggedly.

No, he thought. Tracey had always been troubled. She had been calm, certainly. She used to sit calmly in the common room as though nothing in the world could upset her. But there had always been something else there. Unhappiness, he decided after a moment. Tracey had never been a happy girl. In fact, at the moment he couldn't recall if he had ever heard her laugh. But she was so tranquil, now, in sleep, and Theo envied her. Her brow showed no signs of the nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his eyes; her lips gave no hint that she was tormented by the same voices that he heard every time the lights were out. He gently brushed several strands of hair from her face before running his fingers along her jaw. Damn her, she still lay so calmly, no worries in her features.

She shifted in her sleep, bringing one hand over her head, allowing her sleeve to slip off her wrist in the process. Theo stared in surprise for a moment before smiling. Along her forearm was a series of cuts and scars. Some were thin and had long since turned white and faded, while others stood out rough and bright. Carefully slipping her sleeve further down, he saw that the cuts continued the whole length of her forearm. He pulled down the hem of her other sleeve, but the marks only appeared on the one arm.

Theodore smiled, running a finger along the various cuts. Not so perfect, after all. So she had no demons during the night, but at least she seemed to have them during the day, no matter how collected she always appeared. He gently pulled her sleeve back over her wrist and stood to leave. "I don't know what possessed you to let me into your house," he whispered. "Guilt? Some pathetic attempt to make things right? You can't help me." He smiled again. "You can't help me." And with that he closed the door, leaving Tracey alone.


	15. Chapter 15

_Ron opened the door slowly, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darker room. Hermione smiled and motioned him in._

_"I thought Ginny might be in here with you," Ron said, moving to sit on the edge of Hermione's bed._

_She shook her head. "Harry and she are out back." She gave a mischievous grin and added, "_'talking.'_"_

_"Hermione, I don't want to hear that about my little sister."_

_"I thought you'd finally gotten over that."_

_"I'm over it, but I still don't need to hear the details of their personal lives."_

_Hermione laughed and moved closer to Ron. "Alright then, we won't say another word about them. Instead we can talk about us."_

_Ron blushed. "Er, well, yeah..."_

_"Or we could not talk, if that makes you too uncomfortable."_

_"No, not at all," Ron added hurriedly, "it's just, well... I mean, what do we have to talk about?"_

_"Well," Hermione began, leaning towards Ron seductively, "there's always this." And she kissed him, letting him move to hold her as they deepened it._

_"Yes, well," Ron said a little breathlessly when they broke away, "I suppose there's always that."_

_Hermione laughed again before cuddling against him. "Ron?"_

_"Mm?" he asked, shifting to lean against the wall while still keeping her head resting comfortably on his shoulder._

_"You do love me, don't you? I mean, really love me?"_

_Ron looked at her, startled. "Of course I do. You know that, don't you?"_

_"Say it to me. Please?"_

_"Hermione, I love you more than the sun and moon and earth combined. I love you more than a flower loves the sun, more than a bird loves the sky, and more than an otter loves his fish."_

_"An otter? His fish?"_

_"Er, yeah, those were just kind of the first words that came out of my mouth. It could almost be considered a sweet metaphor, if you take into account that your patronous is an otter. Well," he added as Hermione laughed, "almost."_

_Hermione gave him another kiss. "I love you, too. I love you so much, I..." She trailed off, running her hand down Ron's arm._

_"Hermione?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"Is everything alright? I mean, you don't usually need to ask for confirmation of my love. Did I do something that upset you?"_

_"What? Oh, no, you didn't do anything. You have done nothing except made me love you more."_

_"Well, then, what?"_

_She paused, thinking. "People are leaving. People are losing each other. I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to leave."_

_"Oh, Hermione, I'm not going anywhere."_

_"I know that, it's just... We're changing, you know. A lot. I don't always recognize us anymore. Sometimes, after dreaming that everything wasn't such a mess, I go down for breakfast and can't remember who Remus is, because he's nothing like what he used to be. Or I see your Mum and don't understand why she looks so troubled. Or I see Fred and almost ask where George is, because I know I haven't seen him in awhile.' Ron pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. "I'm afraid we're different people. I don't want to wake up one day and not recognize you. Or worse, have you not recognize me."_

_"That won't happen," Ron replied, his voice slightly broken. "I won't let it. Hermione, we're going to stay together until, until, always. I am never going to leave you. Ever. And I won't let you leave me."_

_Hermione choked back a small sob while Ron began to stroke her hair. "This war is killing us. We'll all be dead by the end. We're already dead. My parents are dead and your dad, and George, and Neville, and, and... And everyone who's alive still, we're all dying."_

_Ron continued stoking her hair, trying to comfort her. "Shh... It's not as bad as all that. We're okay. And we're going to make it through this war. I know we will."_

_"You don't know that. And we don't even know how this whole war will end. It could all be for nothing."_

_"No. We'll win. We have to. It just has to happen that way."_

_Hermione gave a small laugh. "Well, then I wish it would bloody well hurry up and get it over with. Ron?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"You meant that, about never leaving me? Ever?"_

_"Of course I did. I will never let go of you, Hermione, never. And I refuse to let you leave me, either. I love you. Love like that lasts."_

_He leaned down and gave her another long and passionate kiss._

_Hermione smiled when they stopped for breath. "Let's promise each other, then." She shifted to look out the window. "We can promise by that star, right there, that we will never leave each other."_

_"No matter what."_

_"For certain."_

_"And for always."_

_"I love you."_

_"I love you, too. And I promise. I promise to never leave you."_

_"And I promise I will never leave you, either."_

_Ron smiled and hugged her, sweetly kissing her neck. "Forever and always."_

_The two sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, silently waiting through the night together._


	16. Chapter 16

Tracey sat alone waiting for Harry. He had agreed to meet her here at the café to talk about Theodore. He was late, which she found annoying. He was an auror, a crusader for the good, a chivalrous Gryffindor, so wasn't he supposed to be concerned about things like punctuality? Looking around for the hundredth time, she finally spotted him walking towards her.

"Ms. Davis," he said stiffly, holding out his hand.

Tracey repressed the urge to roll her eyes. Really, '_Ms. Davis_'? The formality was entirely unnecessary. "Harry Potter," she returned, shaking his hand. The two sat down and Harry asked her what she had wanted to talk about.

"I want to discuss Theodore Nott," she said firmly. His distaste for the boy clearly showed across his features, but Tracey chose to ignore it. "As I am sure you are aware, he was released from Azkaban some eight months ago. Now, I know neither of us are fools, and you cannot doubt that I know that Theodore has been carefully watched and tailed by aurors throughout this time period."

Harry nodded to confirm that her suspicions were correct, and she continued. "Well then, I would like to ask you why it is that I came across him recently in the street, ill and with no support whatsoever?"

Harry gave a sneer. "It is none of our concern what he does with his life now that he has left Azkaban."

"But it is," Tracey snapped. "You tail him, you watch his every move, you must clearly have seen that he was in trouble. And yet you make absolutely no move to help him?"

"Why should we care what he does to himself? He deserves everything he gets."

Tracey was outraged. "He gets what he deserves? He paid his debt. He spent two years in Azkaban without complaint. He was released through the justice system. His debt has been paid."

"As far as I am concerned, his debt will never be paid. None of yours can."

"Excuse me? Are you including me in that accusation? How dare you! You know very well that I was never a Death Eater!" Harry just laughed, infuriating Tracey even more. "You really don't care, do you? You really don't give a damn about him. He's only a Death Eater in your eyes, and that's all he ever be, isn't that right? You can't even accept that people change, or that maybe he might deserve help."

"He made his own choice, Davis," Harry spat with a glare. "The rest of us have to deal with the consequences of our actions, and so should he!"

"We didn't all have a choice to make!"

"Yes, we did. There is always a choice. We carve our own paths."

"You don't even know how good you had it."

"Don't you dare try to make me feel pity for you or him. I don't have any left to give, and even if I did, I wouldn't waste it on you."

Tracey gave a bitter twist of her lips. "And you're supposed to be the bloody _good_ side." Without another word, she disapparated, finding herself in her own living room. She walked into the bathroom, and slammed and locked the door before rifling through the drawer to find the razor, already pulling back her sleeve.


	17. Chapter 17

_Theodore nicked himself with his razor and winced slightly. Shaving was a skill he had not yet perfected, much to his continued annoyance. Leaning closer to the mirror, he resumed. It was a relief to be at home, in his own bathroom. No chance of being teased by Draco or Blaise for not getting this whole shaving thing. Actually, he didn't really mind Blaise laughing, because he always let up after awhile, and it always seemed to be in more or less good fun. But Draco was another story. Draco never let go of a subject once it had been brought up if it meant someone else's discomfort. Ah well, the two usually avoided daily interaction, and today Theo didn't even have to worry about that, since he was home._

_Behind him, Theodore heard the door open, and froze. Hand still raised, he refused to look in he mirror to see who was standing behind him. He already knew._

_A hand reached around and carefully took the razor from his hand and placed it gently on the counter. Then the same hand, now joined by another, reached around and, with the same care, began to untie the towel from around his waist._

_"I am so pleased that you have finally returned home. I missed you greatly while you were at school. Did you miss me, too?"_

_Theo nodded mutely, still not looking in the mirror or behind him._

_"But you have come home now. And we can take some time to get reacquainted." A hand began to gently guide Theo back into the bedroom. "But you don't look glad to see me. Surely that's not true, though, my beautiful child?"_

_Theo responded without thinking about what he was saying. But it seemed to be a satisfactory answer, because he was now being led towards the bed in the center of the room. _

_"Come, my boy, my beautiful boy. Don't by shy. I know it's been awhile, but I'm sure we can get reacquainted very quickly." He was kissing his neck now, taking off his shirt, and his own shirt, slowly unbuttoning his trousers. "I've missed you so. Let me show you how much I missed you, my beautiful, beautiful boy."_

_Theo was back in the bathroom, towel firmly replaced around his waist. He locked the door this time. It would be simple enough to unlock it with a spell, but at least this way he felt he had some protection. He quickly moved over to the shower and turned it on. The floor was still wet, it had not been long since he had finished his last shower, but this didn't seem to even occur to him. Dropping the towel, he moved under the scalding spray, and tried desperately to wash it all off._


	18. Chapter 18

Lavender stood under the spray of the too hot shower, running shampoo through her long hair. The bottom was tangled, and she had to pause to unknot it. _Another hand ran through her hair, not bothering to be gentle with the tangled strands before he yanked hard so that he could reach her neck._

Shivering, Lavender gave up on the last few knots and leaned back to rinse out the shampoo. She had always considered this a rather awkward task, reaching her arms over her head and backwards to allow the water to hit all parts of her hair. _She felt her hands over her head again, higher this time, and tightly tied._

She began washing herself, careful not to miss any spots, but sure that she must be. _Because she could feel a hand moving roughly up her leg and under her skirt; because the tongue on her neck had just been joined by teeth._

She was only dimly aware that she was repeating all of her actions, washing the same places over and over. It didn't occur to her to stop until she realized that she was rubbing her arm raw. She gingerly ran a hand over the sore skin and winced. _She wasn't only wincing now, she was screaming, too._

And she was screaming, she realized. "Get off! Get off, get off!" she yelled, throwing the soap away from her. "Get off!" She was rubbing her legs, her chest, her cheeks, trying to wash away the stains that had long since faded. "Go away! Leave me alone! Why can't you just leave me alone!?!" Her scream broke into a shuddering sob. Shaking, hands over her face, she slid down the shower wall. "Go away," she whispered between heaving sobs, curling herself on the shower floor. "Stop it, go away, go away." The tears kept coming, blinding her, burning her eyes. The water slowly turned cold, and gently rinsed the tears from her cheeks and washed them down the drain.


	19. Chapter 19

Charlie brushed a single tear from his eye as he looked at the graves. He carefully moved the dead leaves off the plaque before sitting down on the low stone wall. He was not so young as he once was, nor so handsome, scars and burns across most of his face, but he still cut an impressive figure, silhouetted in the early morning light.

Families should never be buried all together, Charlie thought. The children are supposed to grow up, marry, have families of their own. But here he was, staring at nearly his entire family lined in a row.

Closing his eyes, he said a brief apology to his parents. It had been over a year since he had been to see them. Since Ron and Ginny's funeral, actually. He felt a little guilty, but the emotion was pushed away by his own desire to stay out of England. If it weren't for his feelings of guilt, he would still be in India, where his new job required him to be.

Perhaps that wasn't true; perhaps he would have come even without the weight of guilt. There was still Fred, and Charlie would certainly still want to see him. But with another pang of guilt, he realized that he probably wouldn't have come to see Fred. He did want to see him, of course, but he probably would have just sent money so that Fred could come visit him in India. Not, of course, that Fred would be willing to leave England. Everything that Charlie had been trying to leave behind, Fred seemed to be holding onto fervently. Except for Charlie. The two wrote to each other regularly, but Fred's letters were becoming shorter and shorter, barely more than a few lines at this point.

Glancing around, Charlie noticed that despite living near, Fred apparently hadn't been to the cemetery recently, either. Not that he could blame him. There were too many graves here. First his parents. His dad had died early in the war, while his mum didn't die until three years ago. Next there were Bill and Fleur with their daughter, barely five months old. Mercifully, the three had died together at their home, most likely painlessly. Then Percy, although the grave was actually empty. He had reconciled himself with the family in a letter and had been reportedly killed hardly four weeks later, but the body had never been found. After him was George, who got himself killed almost five years ago, saving Ginny. It had almost destroyed Ginny, knowing that he had died because of her. But that didn't seem to matter much, since Ginny and Ron were both murdered only six months before the final end. Those were the most unfair deaths. They were still young, and they were killed only because Voldemort knew they were close to Harry.

Which reminded him, he needed to see Harry and Hermione while he was here. Probably one at a time, judging by Hermione's last letter. It had been very formal, but he had still managed to pick up that she was clearly furious with Harry.

Charlie stood up, tired. He decided to go back to the hotel and sleep for another hour before going to see Fred. Before turning to go, he gave one last glance at the graves and the incongruously bright flowers that lay upon them.


	20. Chapter 20

Luna lay down in the bright flower patch, giggling. "So let me get this straight," said David with a confused smile. "This giant squid, which is actually here in England in a large lake that doesn't show up on any maps, this squid would actually _skip stones_ with students? Like a dog playing fetch?"

Luna laughed again. "Well, he would actually skip the stones back, so I think he would probably be insulted if you equated him to a dog. And Hogwarts is in Scotland. But otherwise that was about correct."

"And remind me one more time, why does no one know about this school and this lake?" David asked, moving on top of Luna, kissing her neck.

"Because it's unplottable," she said in what she tried to make a voice of forced patience, but David was now tickling her, and the effect she wanted was entirely lost.

"Unplottable, yes. You are aware that that concept goes against the laws of physics?"

"You keep trying to talk to me about this _physics_ thing, but I keep telling you, it doesn't make any sense. I mean, how can sound be a wave? And assuming that I grasp the concept of a wave, which I don't think I do, then I really don't understand how light can be a wave _and_ a particle. Or how it could be a particle at all, I mean, it's just light."

David laughed. "You're right, you definitely don't grasp the concept."

Luna playfully hit him on the shoulder. "Well, you don't understand how something can be unplottable, and that's a very simple concept. It just means it can't be put on a map."

"Yes, but either it's there or it's not. And if it's not there, then you're much crazier than I thought, and if it is there, then you should be able to put it on a map."

Luna laughed again. "I can't wait until we have children some day. I'm just dying to see your expression when they get their letters from Hogwarts."

"And who says they'll take after you? What will you do if they turn--what was it, eleven?--and they don't get a letter from Hogwarts?"

"That could happen, but it's very rare."

"So I'm doomed to live in a household where I don't understand half the things in it?"

"Pretty much."

"I never thought I would marry someone who believed in fairy tales and didn't get science."

"Who says I believe in fairy tales?" Luna asked, sobering a little. "Fairy tales are just as completely unbelievable to wizards as they are to muggles. Magic doesn't make happy endings. But to your other point, you didn't think you'd marry a girl like me because you didn't know magic was real. Once you get over that fact, I'm really not so crazy."

David laughed, ruffling Luna's hair. "Oh no, you're still crazy, you're just not completely insane. Show me some magic."

"Now?" David nodded. Luna glanced around quickly to make sure there were no other people in this secluded part of the park. "Alright, but you know it's illegal for me to do it in front of muggles, so I'll have to stop if anyone comes by."

"Of course."

"Alright, then how about... accio rock!" the rock flew up and into her hand. She grinned at David's expression; he was impressed no matter how many times she showed him simple spells.

"So can all wizards and witches do that?"

"Well, I didn't learn that one until my fourth year, but, yeah, pretty much every wizard and witch over the age of fifteen can. Some are better than others, though."

"Can I try?"

"Why not," Luna said holding out her wand.

"Are you sure? I'm not going to accidentally start a fire or anything?"

Luna smiled. "You aren't magical, so you shouldn't be able to do anything at all. But even if you do, I can always fix it."

David nodded and took the wand. "Azzeo rock!" he tried to imitate.

"Accio," Luna corrected, "and you have to give it a small wave, like this."

"Alright. Accio rock! ... Accio rock... Accio tiny twig! Hmm... I don't think this is going to work," he said with a sheepish grin, watching Luna laugh. "So how about... Alakazam! Open Sesame! Abracadabra!"

On the last one Luna froze. She stopped laughing and quickly jumped up to take back her wand.

David looked at her with obvious concern. "What is it? Is everything alright? Are you... what did that mean?"

Luna looked at him a little distractedly. "What? Oh, it didn't mean anything. It just... It sounds a lot like... But it isn't. It doesn't mean anything. Nothing at all. Don't worry about it."

David nodded slowly, taking her hand in his. Luna closed her eyes a moment to compose herself, and in that instant of darkness she saw a flash of bright green light.


	21. Chapter 21

_There was another flash of bright green light followed by a harsh cackle and a muffled scream. Harry closed his eyes, sickened. At another strangled scream from Ginny, he tried to stumble to his feet, but he was yanked back down again by Dean Thomas. Harry glared at him and tried to escape his grasp, but he couldn't. Dean looked at him with a pained expression for a moment before turning away. _

_"Come now, Harry, I know you're still out there," came Voldemort's high, harsh voice across the lawn. "I must admit, I am impressed by your fortitude. I didn't expect you to hold out while I killed your best friend. Perhaps you aren't such a chivalric Gryffindor after all. But then, perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps Ron wasn't your best friend? He seemed to think so. But I don't suppose it matters now that he's dead."_

_Harry banged his head on the stone wall he was sitting against. He couldn't handle this. It wasn't fair. No one should have to endure this. He clenched his fists, trying to stop from shaking. _

_"But really, Harry, I'm growing weary of your games. And I'm sure Ginevra here agrees." Harry winced as Ginny gave another shriek, cut off by the gag in her mouth._

_He couldn't see her from where he was now, but he could still picture how she looked, arms tied tightly behind her back, face streaked with dirt and tears, her usually beautiful hair hanging limp in front of her face, blood running down her chest._

_"You can make this all stop, you know. All you have to do is come out from your little hiding place..." Voldemort paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued again, "I don't think this whole thing is your idea, is it? I know you well, Harry, and I'm sure you would love to come save your little girlfriend. It's everyone else who is telling you that you can't. All those people who pretend to be your friends. But they don't really care about _you_, do they? If they did, you certainly wouldn't be forced to watch as I torture Ginny here, now would you?"_

_There were several more cries from Ginny. Harry started to jump up but caught himself and forced himself to sit back down. "They don't care about you at all; you know that. They only care about their precious war. In fact, they're even willing to give up their darling Ginevra as a sacrifice to the cause. But I don't think you're willing to make that sacrifice yet, are you? They just don't care. They don't care about you, and they could never care for Ginny the way you do. Isn't that right?" There was another pause before he added, "Crucio!"_

_This time Harry didn't try to resist jumping up, but Dean had anticipated that. The two fell onto the ground, Harry trying desperately to get away and Dean trying just as hard to keep him where he was._

_"Harry! Stop! I know this is horrible, but you can't do this!" Dean whispered rapidly._

_Harry hissed back. "Get the goddamned hell off me, Dean!"_

_"No, Harry, please! You know you can't do this! I can't let you do this. Please, Harry!"_

_"That's not your girlfriend out there! I can't abandon her like this! Let me go!"_

_"She told you not to save her if this happens! Don't you remember that? Don't you want to honor her wishes? She knows that if you save her now, you'll be forfeiting the entire world. Can you really make that deal? The world for one life?"_

_"Yes! If that one life is the only one that matters!"_

_"Harry, if you are captured, Ginny's dead anyway! We're all dead! You can't--damn!" Harry had just broken away from him. He was about to move around the wall when Dean quickly held out his wand. "Harry, please, _please_ don't make me do this!"_

_The two kneeled, staring at each other, trying to catch their breaths. After what felt like an eternity, the passing time marked only by Ginny's continuing screams, Harry sat heavily down, shaking with unshed tears and unvoiced screams._

_Anthony Goldstein slinked over quietly and looked at the other two panting and grass-covered boys in concern. Dean nodded to the watch in Anthony's hand that he was supposed to have turned into a portkey. "Will it work?"_

_"We'll find out soon enough," Anthony muttered, watching Harry closely._

_Dean leaned nervously towards his friend. "Harry...?"_

_Ginny had stopped screaming, but they could still hear her whimpers. "Harry," Voldemort began, unknowingly echoing Dean, "you really are going to abandon her? Perhaps I have a little more respect for you than I originally thought—"_

_Harry looked at Dean miserably and nodded slowly._

_"--You're even more like me than you would like to think.--"_

_Anthony quickly moved over, holding out the improvised portkey._

_"--But if you're really not going to bother saving your little bloodtraitor girlfriend, then she is of no more use to me.--"_

_Dean reached to touch the watch, and after a moment of hesitation, Harry did too._

_"—It's a shame. She really is so very pretty. Or, at least, she was."_

_Anthony put his hand on Harry's shoulder, waiting for him to nod._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_There was no scream this time. _

_Harry left, leaving Ginny behind. Having let Ginny down. And Ron. Abandoning his best friend and his love, neither of whom had once deserted him, no matter what the danger was to themselves._

_The last things he registered before the rushing wind overwhelmed his senses, were a flash of green light and Voldemort's cruel, high-pitched laughter echoing across the field._


	22. Chapter 22

_Tracey laughed out loud when she read the letter. Not being the brightest student, she hadn't expected to get five O.W.L.s, but here they were. With a bounce in her step, Tracey went to find her parents. _

_She found them in the sitting room, her mother sedately sipping tea and her father calmly reading the _Prophet_. She had to school her expression as she entered the room and politely waited to be addressed._

_"Good afternoon, Tracey," her father said after a moment, looking up from his paper. "Is there something you wish to share with us?" _

_Tracey nodded, allowing the smile to slip across her lips again. "I just got the results of my O.W.L.s. I thought you would like to know, I received five."_

_Her father nodded and returned to his paper. "That is very good, Tracey."_

_Her smile faltered. She was very proud and had hoped that her parents might express at least some of that same pride. "It's more than I had expected," she prompted hopefully. "And with these scores, now I can take all the classes I had hoped to take this year."_

_Her father nodded again, and her mother said airily, "Yes, we are proud of you, dear." But the words sounded empty._

_Tracey stood there for a moment, unsure what to do next. "Well, then, I suppose I will see you at dinner." And she slowly returned to her room. When she reached it, she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her father had received more than five O.W.L.s, she knew. Perhaps he had expected the same from her. It was hardly fair, though. Tracey wasn't very bright, she knew that, but she tried hard at school. She wanted to succeed and to make her parents proud. But she hadn't tried hard enough._

_Only five, she thought miserably. Her friend Daphne Greenglass had probably received more. She was by far the cleverer of the two girls. Draco and Blaise had probably done better than her without even trying. It wasn't fair that she had to try so hard and would still never be as good._

_Sighing, Tracey stood and made her way over to her bathroom. Once inside, she rummaged through a drawer until she found the razor she was looking for. After staring at it for a moment, she carefully dragged it over her wrist. She watched as blood beaded around it until it spilled over the edge of the cut and ran in small rivulets down her forearm. She smiled just a little as she imagined all of her anger, all of her worthlessness dripping out of her with her blood, falling to spatter bright red in the sink._


	23. Chapter 23

Fred watched her take a sip of her drink through her brightly painted red lips. He knew her, he was sure. From a long time ago. From Hogwarts, most likely. But he couldn't place her, and it was beginning to annoy him. The girl looked up and caught his eyes. Her expression went distant for a moment before she smiled and asked, "Fred?"

Hearing the voice made the rest of her click into place. "Lavender," he said, relieved to have identified her. "It's been a long time. You look nothing like you used to."

It was true. If he hadn't heard her voice, he may never have recognized her. She looked tired, worn, and her old girlish flirtiness had been replaced by a more feminine seductiveness. She smiled. "No, I suppose I don't. You, on the other hand, look almost exactly the same."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Neither knew what to say next. 'How have you been?' hardly seemed appropriate, given that the answer might very probably be negative. Lavender was the one to speak first. "So, do you still run the joke shop?"

"Yes. And I think I heard from Hermione that you're doing something at the Ministry?"

"Working as a secretary," she agreed. There was some more uncomfortable silence before Lavender asked, "You keep in touch with Hermione, then?"

Fred shrugged. "A little, I suppose. Although it may be more accurate to say that she keeps in touch with me. Do you still talk to anyone from school?"

"I see Seamus, occasionally. Ever since Parvatti... well, he seems to want to keep up with me. I don't really see the benefit of it."

Fred nodded to fill the silence. Glancing at her glass, he asked, "Can I buy you another drink?"

She looked down and seemed surprised to find it empty. She nodded and then shook her head. "Fred," she began, watching him carefully. "Fred, what I'd really like... I'd rather... Look, can I go home with you?"

He stared at her in surprise. It was the question he would have gotten to eventually, the question that most encounters here eventually led to, but no one had ever been so blunt about it before. She sounded slightly desperate for him to say yes and afraid he would refuse. Slowly he agreed.

Lavender smiled with relief and motioned for Fred to lead the way to his place.


	24. Chapter 24

"You're worrying about Fred, aren't you?" Katie said to Lee, making it a statement rather than a question. She sighed. "He doesn't want to be helped."

Prying his eyes from the window, Lee looked at her a little guiltily. "I know," he answered. "I know I can't change that, but... He's my friend. And I miss him. The old him."

Katie nodded, setting down her pen. "Me too. But worrying isn't going to do any of us any good. You've done more for him than anyone could have expected. Now we just have to wait for him to come around."

"If he comes around."

"No, he'll come around. He's smart."

"He was smart. Now he's acting like a complete idiot. Sometimes I wonder if he wasn't brain damaged or something during the war."

Katie giggled a little in spite of herself. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

Lee gave a grudging grin. "No, I suppose not. But it's a better reason than saying he just doesn't care anymore."

"He doesn't care anymore. That's the problem."

"He's just so bloody insensitive. Doesn't he realize we care about him? How can he do this to us?"

Katie bit her lip for a moment and then moved to sit in a chair nearer Lee. "I don't know," she said in a light tone. "He is being rather a git, though, isn't he? You would think he would consider our feelings in his desperate attempts to assuage his own grief. I mean, really, forgetting to eat when no one else is there is one thing, but forgetting to eat when your friends visit daily is just plain rude. Perhaps he doesn't need our help after all. Perhaps all he needs is a serious refresher course in common manners. He never was exactly the most courteous of people, and without his mother around to send him those constant howlers... well. It's a shame, really. George always was the more considerate of the two. You would have thought that _some_ of it would have rubbed off on Fred."

This time Lee gave a real laugh. "This was why I married you, you know," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

Katie laughed brightly. "Yes, yes, I know. It has nothing to do with my charm or personality or even looks. Just my ability to make fun of horribly depressing situations. Well, I suppose there are worse things to be married for. Now come on, let's get to bed; it's getting late."


	25. Chapter 25

It was a little late to be ordering coffee, but Charlie did so anyway, bringing the hot cups back to the table where Harry sat. He had intended to take Harry out to a local pub to talk, but one look at Harry standing bleary-eyed in the doorway had told him that the last thing Harry needed was a drink. He tried to sip the coffee, but it was much too hot, so he watched his companion instead.

"So, tell me, how have you been?" It was a painfully stupid question, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

Harry gave a small laugh. "Rotten. Good to see you, though. And you? The dragons haven't eaten you yet, I see."

"No, not yet," he agreed. "I've been doing rather well, actually. Been kept busy by work." Which was the best he could hope for really, to be kept busy enough not to think about anything else. "I would have expected you to be busy, too."

"Yeah, well..." Harry trailed off, seemingly unable to finish the thought. "I could be busy. But now the war's over, what's left to do? It's all just loose ends. The Ministry can handle it. Besides, there are so many new people signing up to be aurors, now that the immediate threat is gone, that they don't really miss one like me."

His dismissive tone worried Charlie. "That's not the way Hermione tells it in her letters. She seems to think there's still a lot that needs to be done, a lot that hasn't been finished. And she said that the Ministry has been understaffed, not overstaffed."

"Yeah, well, that's Hermione, isn't it?" he asked scathingly. "Always makes a big trouble out of nothing, that one."

"I'm going to see her tomorrow," Charlie offered.

Harry gave derisive snort. "Good luck. She hardly comes out of her office lately. It's going to take a miracle to get in to see her. Of course, she still manages to find the time to drop in on unsuspecting friends." He swallowed a mouth full of coffee.

The conversation was not going in a direction that Charlie liked, so he changed subjects. "I went to see Fred the other day. You two should talk more. It would be good for both of you, I think."

Harry gave another short, harsh laugh. "Yes, because you seem to do that so well yourself, keeping up on these nice little visits. It's been, what, a year since you were last in England?"

"Yes," Charlie answered quietly, suddenly annoyed with Harry's callousness. "Since Ron and Ginny's funeral, in fact."

Harry gave a jerk at this and quickly looked away. Charlie felt a small amount of satisfaction at the reaction he had produced. It burned at him that Harry had not taken the time to visit their graves. If anyone had had such an obligation, it was Harry, who was the sole reason for their deaths. But watching Harry he immediately regretted his harsh sentiments. The mere mention of Ron and Ginny had made him go pale. When Harry finally looked back at Charlie his eyes were blank and haunted.


	26. Chapter 26

_The eyes staring at Luna were blank and empty, staring sightlessly somewhere along the far wall. Luna screamed and tried to stand up, but her head was spinning too much. Slumping against the wall, she closed her eyes and waited for the room to regain balance. When it finally did, she looked in front of her again. The blank eyes belonged to a third year Hufflepuff. She was tiny, Luna noticed, shockingly small, and also long dead. Luna began to wonder how long she had been unconscious._

_The sun was slowly peaking through the nearby window, proclaiming a new day. The sun always rises, Luna thought, even on the dead. She got unsteadily to her feet and looked around. The Hufflepuff girl was not the only other person in the long hall. There were children scattered along its floor, all of them dead. Shaking, Luna began to back down the corridor. _

_Reaching up to pull her hair from her face, she saw that her hand was covered in blood. She didn't know whose. Looking down, she saw that her skirt was heavily stained with the same dark red. She immediately wished she hadn't looked down. Staring at her were another pair of blank eyes, this pair belonging to a fellow Ravenclaw seventh year. His mouth was partially open, as though in the middle of telling her something. _You're still alive_, he seemed to accuse. _

_With a muffled cry, Luna turned and ran. She ran as fast as she could, trying to get out of this nightmare. There had to be more people still alive, she thought as she ran past more bodies strewn across the halls, the occasional masked Death Eater ranged among the students. She turned a corner too quickly and slipped on the glass of a shattered window, falling on the floor and tearing her shoulder along a broken desk. She tried to get up quickly, but got tangled in something lying near her. She couldn't help from looking. She was met by another pair of blank eyes, screaming accusations at her. _You shouldn't be alive._ She felt sick but pulled herself up anyway, not wanting to stay still. _

_She stumbled down a flight of stairs, falling twice, her shoulder searing and her head spinning, and then darted down another hall. She was relieved to find herself at the top of the marble stairs leading to the entrance hall. There were more people here, more eyes, all asking, begging. _Why are you still alive?_ She tripped on the last step and skidded along the floor. She got up, ignoring the new gash in her knee, the cut on her cheek, ignoring everything except for the accusing eyes and her need to get out of this cursed mausoleum. The large oak doors were sealed, keeping the students from escaping. She threw all of her weight against the heavy doors and fell sobbing into the fresh air of a new dawn._


	27. Chapter 27

Charlie knocked on the thick wooden door. Every other door in the hallway was open; only the one leading to Hermione's office was sealed closed. After a moment he knocked again. "Yes, yes, come in," he heard the muted answer from behind the door.

"Well, what is it?" she asked distractedly without looking up from her work.

"Just an old friend come to call."

Hermione looked up and stared blankly at him for a moment. "Is it really eleven thirty already?" she asked, glancing at the clock.

"Eleven thirty-five, in fact. I'm a little late, I'm afraid, but I'm hoping you will forgive my faux pas."

"What? Oh, yes of course. Well," said Hermione in a rush as she quickly filed away some of the papers she had been working on, "I was thinking we could go to this cute little deli just down the street because it's very fast and has excellent service and a rather nice ambience so we could sit there and talk and the food's not bad either or we could go to this little cafe around the corner, not quite as nice but still quick with places to sit and eat and--" Hermione said on one breath.

"Actually," Charlie interrupted, "I thought we might eat at this Italian place I discovered near my hotel. Romano's, I think it was called. It's a nice quiet place, and the food was reasonably priced."

"Oh no, I really don't think we should go somewhere like that, I mean I have to get back to work and I'm sure it's really slow and--"

Charlie cut her off again. "I took the liberty of speaking to your boss. She said it would be fine for you to take an extended lunch break. You aren't expected back until two o'clock in the afternoon."

Hermione looked momentarily affronted but quickly collected herself. "I really don't think... I mean, you really shouldn't have... I'm sure I'd better..."

Charlie smiled a little. "Actually, she said it would a blessing if I took you to lunch and that I should keep you out as long as possible."

Hermione opened her mouth but seemed unable to think of anything to say, so she closed it again.

"So, shall we go?"

Hermione nodded mutely. "Just let me get my coat."

Although at first she seemed nervous and checked her watch every three minutes or so, after awhile Charlie got Hermione to talk quite openly and animatedly about any number of things. At first the conversation lingered mostly on her job. There was so much still to be done at the Ministry, she explained. They spoke of policies and laws, Azkaban prisoners and decorated aurors. Eventually the conversation led to Charlie's work, and then on to other mutual topics.

Hermione seemed to be truly enjoying herself, and Charlie wondered how long it had been since she had last detached herself from her work. Eventually it was revealed that Charlie had visited Harry the previous day.

"Oh, I'm sure he was lovely company," Hermione scoffed.

"He wasn't bad, once we got to talking."

"And how much work did that take, to get him to talk civilly? He's practically become an animal lately, hiding all day in his flat, growling at anyone who dares to try and speak sense to him."

"Actually, he was quite fine," Charlie said, exaggerating just a little. "We went down to a coffee shop a street away and had quite a nice chat."

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. When he mentioned that Harry had left the house with him, Hermione's look immediately hardened. "Well, you know," she said, glancing at her watch for the first time in nearly an hour and a half, "it's getting time I really ought to get back to work. It's been lovely talking to you though, truly. Oh, don't worry, I'll get the check. No, really. And I do hope you'll make sure to see me next time you come back to England."

Charlie sighed and said goodbye, and told her he had truly enjoyed seeing her.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, and I'm sorry to run out on you like this, but work calls; you understand how it is. Have a safe trip home." And she was gone.

Charlie walked slowly back to his hotel room. He had been glad to see his old acquaintances, but thought that he was perhaps more glad to leave them behind. Yes, he decided, it was definitely time to go home.


	28. Chapter 28

Fred's home was really quite lovely, Lavender decided as she stared around his room. True, it was one of the messiest places she had been in awhile, but despite the mess it was very clean. The walls were a bright yellow that made her smile. Only Fred would have the guts to paint his walls bright yellow. She wondered what color George's room was, but didn't dare ask to see.

Fred shifted next to her in the bed. "Morning," he muttered sleepily as he snaked an arm around her waist.

Lavender laughed a little. "You know, I would have expected you to have been a morning person."

Fred groaned. "Hardly." He opened his eyes and looked at her blearily. "You're really quite lovely, you know that?"

Lavender gave a hard smile. "Not anymore I'm not."

Fred didn't seem to hear her as he groggily sat up and began to rub his eyes. Lavender looked at the table next to her side of the bed. It was covered in photos, she noticed with a pang. She knew many of the people in the frames. Her own house had been long clear of pictures. Eventually she noticed one of Fred with Angelina, both smiling in each other's arms. They both looked so happy.

She glanced at Fred as he pulled on his boxers and then back at the photo. He was different, an entirely different person. She wondered how unrecognizable she herself had become in the intervening years.

"You still love her," Lavender said quietly.

"What?" Fred asked distractedly as he looked for a shirt. "Well, yeah, of course." Lavender had the impression that if he had been more awake he never would have answered the question. She looked back at the photo. He kept a photo of Angelina by his bed, even though it must have hurt every time he looked at it. Lavender stared at it, as though if she just watched long enough it might eventually disappear, become a figment of her imagination.

He had really loved her.

He still loved her, even as he went with other girls he picked up at strange pubs--Lavender couldn't have been the only girl he went with. It was incredible that love like that could still exist, after all this war.

"I never had anyone like that," she whispered to herself.

"What was that?" Fred asked. "Do you want your clothes?"

Lavender nodded and slipped on her bra. She didn't love anyone like that, she realized. She didn't and she never had. And no one had ever loved her with such intensity, such loyalty, living or dead. If she died tomorrow there would be no picture of her in anyone's house. In fact, who would notice besides Seamus once she stopped responding to his letters?

"D'you want breakfast?" Fred asked, the question sounding incredibly trivial. "I have muffins, I think," he offered when Lavender didn't respond.

"Muffins, right," Lavender said, collecting her thoughts. "Yes, breakfast would be lovely."


	29. Chapter 29

Theodore sat down to breakfast rubbing sleep from his eyes as he watched Tracey butter her muffin across the table. She took a couple bites before gesturing toward the counter. "There're more."

Theo nodded and moved to retrieve one. "Good morning. Not in a good mood, then?"

It was a moment before she answered. "Just tired."

Theo grinned. "Of me?"

"Of a lot of things, mostly of not getting enough sleep."

Theo reached across to the butter. "It's Saturday, so that means you aren't going to work. Any plans?"

Tracey just shrugged, so he tried again. "Anything interesting happen yesterday?"

"Not really," she answered.

She was really starting to annoy him, now. He just wanted a decent reaction from her. "Anything in that paper you're reading?"

She handed him the _Prophet_ without looking up. Theo ground his teeth for a moment, unaccountable fury at her rising in him. Suddenly, with a cruel grin, he thought of a way to tempt a reaction out of her. "I was wondering," he said in an offhand voice, "if it hurt when you cut your arm with that razor? I mean, it must, but do you notice it?"

Tracey froze, hand halfway to her mouth, and narrowed her eyes at Theo. "What?" she asked darkly.

"Does it hurt," he repeated with a manic sort of glee, "when you cut yourself?"

Tracey seemed too enraged to answer. So Theo just gave the same carnivorous smile and continued, "It's quite interesting to see, you know. I wouldn't have expected it of you. You were always so calm in school. I had the impression you were in control."

Tracey slammed her hand down on the table and hissed, "I am in control."

Theo's grin just widened. "That's not what most people would say. Most people would say that you're _losing it_, even."

"Don't you _dare_," she began before Theo cut in again.

"Sign of depression, trauma, mental illness... I think you're sane enough, so that means it must be one of the former. What happened in your past, Tracey? What scarred you that much?"

"Theo, don't start, you have no idea..."

"Apparently not. I always thought your life was pretty perfect. Certainly it was a far cry from mine, wasn't it? But you're just as screwed up, aren't you?"

"Shut up, you don't know--"

"Pathetic, that's what it is. It's pathetic that you have to hide behind--"

"Pathetic? This from a guy who I found unconscious in the street. Drugs and _sex_ and--"

"You still think you're better, but you're just as totally fcked up--"

"How many guys did you screw before I found you, huh? Tell me--"

"You can't even--"

"--How many do you even remember? I bet you don't--"

"--Help yourself, can you? What made you think it was a good idea to help me? You can't--"

"I don't know _what_ I was thinking! But I was obviously wrong to think you--"

"So tell me, I still want to know, what happened to you? What messed you up so much--"

"Don't you dare--"

"--because I want to know. I want to know exactly what made you do this to yourself--" And he reached for her arm, starting to pull up her sleeve. But Tracey yanked away and with surprising force, threw Theo into the opposite wall.

"Out!" she screamed. "Get out! Now! Get out!"

Theo laughed and complied. She slammed the door behind him, increasing his smirk. He'd never seen Tracey upset like that, never. He should have figured this out years ago. It made her human, put the two of them on the same playing field. He'd wait until tonight to return, give her a day to cool down. He'd wait until tomorrow to feel guilty about it, because in the meanwhile, this was just too great. Maybe he would eventually even apologize. Maybe he would eventually let himself think about what she had accused him of. But then again, maybe not. Whistling, Theo walked jauntily down the hall, rapping a tune on the walls as he passed.


	30. Chapter 30

Hermione rapped on the door again and sighed in exasperation. Really, there was no reason she should be running errands like this. They had secretaries for this sort of thing. She waited, tapping her foot impatiently, and knocked for a third time. Still no answer.

"Lavender," Hermione tried calling through the door. "Lavender, it's Hermione. Could you open the door so we can talk?" Lavender had been missing from work for a full two days without explanation, and no one could contact her. Strictly speaking, it was not policy to go knock on the door of missing employees, but Lavender rarely even came in late to work. "Lavender, are you even in there? Am I talking to an empty room?"

That still didn't explain why Hermione had been sent, of course. They said it was because Hermione was friends with her, that if something was wrong Lavender would be more likely to talk to Hermione than anyone else. Never mind the fact that the two had hardly spoken since Lavender got the secretarial job. Lavender had seemed to be avoiding Hermione, and, to be fair, Hermione had been doing the same. It was easier not to talk to people from so long ago, and the two had never been all that close to begin with.

Now thoroughly annoyed, Hermione tried the door handle. She was surprised when it swung easily forward on its hinges. Well, an unlocked door certainly simplified the whole situation. She stepped over the threshold and called out again. There was no one in the small living room, so she walked aimlessly to the kitchen.

The real reason, Hermione knew, that she had been sent here was to get her out of the office. Their concern for her well being was thinly disguised and exhaustingly obnoxious. She was a grown woman and could take care of herself. If she wanted to spend her time at work, that was her own business.

Lavender wasn't in the kitchen, either, not that she had expected her to be. The flat was small, and Hermione was sure Lavender must be out. Who knew, maybe she had grown sick of the whole mess and had decided to move to Atlanta without telling anyone. Not, of course, that she had any reason to be in Atlanta, except that it was far away from England.

Hermione sighed and glanced around. She should just leave, but she found the unlocked door troubling. So she walked into the bedroom. There was no one there. Hermione was just turning to leave when something caught her eye by the closet. Curious, Hermione opened the door, and screamed.


	31. Chapter 31

David found the dark room curious. Luna's coat was by the door, so she must have been home, but why then were the lights not on? Loosening his tie, he walked to the bedroom and knocked tentatively before entering. Luna was curled on the bed, hugging a pillow and sobbing. Quickly he sat next to her on the bed and pulled her into his arms.

"Luna, darling, what's wrong? Are you all right? Is everything okay?"

Luna nodded shakily. "I'm fine," she choked out, resting her head on David's shoulder.

"Good, thank god," he said, stoking her hair. "Then what's wrong? What happened?"

He waited patiently while she caught her breath and calmed down a little. "It's Lavender," she finally said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I don't know if you remember me mentioning her before. She was a-a year older than me. Gr-Gryffindor."

David nodded, still stroking her hair. "She was the one you said had been imprisoned by the Death Eaters for four years?"

"Right. Well, sh-she'd been working for the ministry and didn't show up. So Hermione went t-to see if she was alright." She was crying again, choking on her words. "Oh, David, she _killed_ herself. H-hung herself in her closet. They brought her to St. Mungo's, but of c-course it was too late."

"Shh," David said softly, holding her shaking frame close to him. "It's alright. It will be alright."

"No, it won't! It's supposed to be alright already! The war's over; how can people still be dying? The dieing is supposed to be over with. Everyone's already dead! How could she go and kill herself?"

David brushed a tear from her chin. "That's not true. Not everyone died. You're still here. And you're alright. And you have friends still who are alright, like Harry and Hermione. And you're helping people everyday at your job."

Luna gave a bitter smile. "But I didn't help Lavender, did I?"

"You can't help everyone. You didn't know she needed help. You weren't friends, were you?"

Luna shook her head. "No, she never liked me much, I don't think. Probably thought I was crazy."

"It's only going to get better, you know," David said gently. "You said it yourself; the war's over, so it can only get better. It's just going to take some more time."

Luna sniffed and muttered, "I'm just so sick of waiting."

David laughed. "Yes, well, it is a pain, waiting around for change. But it does happen eventually." He looked lovingly at the girl in his arms for along time. "You know, why don't we have a dinner here, invite all of your friends: Harry, Hermione, Seamus, Anthony Goldstein... Whoever you want. I'll cook. How would that be?"

Luna smiled. "I don't think Harry and Hermione are talking to each other right now."

"Then we'll have several dinners, invite them all separately. I think you need to see all your old friends, be reminded that they're still alright, too."

Luna laughed a little this time. "David, they are all at least as screwed up as me. I'm not sure you could even handle having all of them here at one time. I mean, they were all characters before the whole war, and now... Well, now we're just all a mess, aren't we?"

"Yes," David agreed, kissing her on the forehead, "but a beautiful mess. An enchanting, lovely, charming, and wonderful mess that I couldn't live without."

"You know," Luna said, kissing him back, "sometimes I think you're the one who was addled by the war. I mean, you must be absolutely crazy to stick around me like this."

"Hey now, I thought we had agreed you were the crazy one in this relationship."

Luna smiled and rubbed the rest of the tears from her face. "You'll never even know how crazy."


	32. Chapter 32

Katie looked at him like he was crazy. "You're telling me you actually made dinner? For us?"

"Well, for me, too," Fred said with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"What did you decide to make? I didn't think you had much left in your pantry."

"Well, I did have to go to the store first."

"You went to the store, too?" Lee asked mockingly, raising his eyebrows. "What's wrong with you? Where's the Fred we're used to?"

"This is the Fred you're used to. I used to cook all the time, remember?"

"I remember," Katie answered, "but I didn't think _you_ did."

"Yeah, well, are you going to eat it or what?"

Lee smiled. "We'll eat it if it's any good. I mean, you must be a little rusty on your cooking abilities."

"Not really," Fred replied, sitting down at the table. "I've been mixing stuff for the shop all this while. It's really not very different."

"Yes, for the shop," Katie laughed. "That's what has us so nervous."

Neither Katie nor Lee needed to have worried. The meal was superb, almost up to Fred's old standards.

"I don't think we've laughed like this for years," Lee said.

"No, this is wonderful," Katie agreed. "Not to jinx it or anything, but, what brought on this desire to cook again?"

Fred hesitated before answering. "I met up with Lavender Brown the other night," he began carefully, avoiding his friends' eyes. "I almost didn't recognize her. She was really different, not the same person at all." He shrugged a little uncomfortably. "I don't want to be that different."

There was a long pause before Katie spoke quietly. "You aren't, you know, that different. Not really."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's what she said. 'Exactly the same,' in fact, I believe were her words. But I know I've changed."

"We've all changed," Lee answered.

"Yeah, well, seeing her got me to thinking, anyway. And I was thinking, well, if the offer still stands, that is, I was wondering if maybe, if maybe I could still move in with you guys. Just for awhile. Just until I, I don't know, work some stuff out, I guess."

Lee was on his feet before Fred had even finished. "Mate, the offer was always there, we've always wanted you to come over. You know that. We'd love to have you stay with us." And he quickly enveloped Fred in a tight embrace.


	33. Chapter 33

Hermione hugged herself tightly against the wind. It had been a small funeral, and the few attendees were already wandering away to their separate destinations. She said a quiet goodbye to Seamus as he passed, wishing him a safe trip home, before moving her eyes back to the small grave. The only two people remaining in front of it were Lavender's frail aunt and, further back, Harry. She watched as Harry slowly got up and made his way to the back of the few chairs where Hermione was standing.

"Hey," he said quietly. "It's, er, good to see you."

"Yes, it's good to see you, too."

"I've been, er," he trailed off for a moment, as though he didn't quite want to say the words. "I've been meaning to call you."

"Yeah," Hermione answered, "Me too, actually."

"Really?" Harry said, looking up quickly.

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, really." There was a long but surprisingly comfortable pause between the two. "Look," Hermione began tentatively, afraid to ruin the balance between them, "I was thinking that, well, since I'm here, I was going to go see their graves. The Weasley's, I mean. Ron and Ginny and everybody. And I was wondering if you might like to come with me."

Harry stayed quiet for so long without looking at her that Hermione was sure he was going to refuse. "Sure," he answered. "I'd like that. It's been a long time, actually, since I've done that. Visited them, I mean."

Hermione smiled. "It's been a long time for me, too."

Harry nodded and after looking at her for a long moment, he put an arm around her shoulder, and the two walked through the mud to see their friends together.


	34. Chapter 34

Tracey kicked off her shoes without seeming to notice that she was dripping mud all over the entranceway. Theodore looked up from his book and was shocked to see her crying. He had never, he realized, seen Tracey cry. She was a hard girl, with edges like glass, and the thought of her crying had seemed impossible, absurd even. Yet here she was, dropping next to him on the couch and sobbing. He couldn't think of anything to say to her, so he just waited.

"I was at Lavender Brown's funeral," she said finally, voice broken with tears.

This only served to confuse Theo more. "But..." he said slowly, utterly nonplussed, "I thought you hated her?"

"I didn't like her, but that's hardly the point, is it?" she snapped.

Theo wanted to say that he had no idea what the point was, but he bit his tongue.

"It was a small funeral. Tiny. There was no one there," Tracey eventually said, as though this should explain why she was so upset.

"Well, I don't really see why you were there, either," Theo said hesitantly.

"It doesn't matter why I was there! I don't even know. I just... felt like it, so I went. But that's not the point. The point is, there was _no one there_."

Theo continued to stare at her, deciding that he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

Tracey gave another sob as more tears coursed down her face. "Look, she was always popular, wasn't she? Had lots of friends, right? She always did. But today she's dead and there was no one there to mourn her."

Tracey looked at him for a flicker of understanding, but he gave none. "You don't get it, do you? _There's no one left_. No one. That's it. It's just us. Everyone else is dead and gone. If one of us died, there'd be even fewer people at the funeral. No one would care! There would be no one left to care." Tracey gave another sob and roughly rubbed some tears from her cheek. "I mean, we're the only two left from our year in Slytherin, aren't we? Everyone else is either dead or locked up for life. And in Gryffindor now it's only Potter, Granger, and Finnigan. Hufflepuff there's just Eloise Midgen and that Abbott girl, but everyone says she's lost her mind anyway. And from Ravenclaw it's only Anthony Goldstein, yeah? Everyone else is either dead or missing. It's only us. We're the only ones, and there's no one left to mourn us, no one left to even remember us. Hermione went looking for Lavender. If I died, who would come looking for me?"

Theo had never been at such a loss for what to do. He understood, now, why she was sobbing, but he still had no idea how to help. After a few moments he awkwardly began to rub her shoulder. "Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here with you, and I'd miss you. So we're here for each other, right?" He had no idea if he was going in the right direction or not, but Tracey didn't protest or cry any harder, so he continued in the same vein. "We have each other still, and that's something, right? It's going to be okay. People die, true, but people live, too. We're still living, aren't we? And all those other people you mentioned? Potter and Granger, Finnigan, Midgen, Goldstein... We're all alright. And we're all still living and breathing.

"And you're strong, you've always been strong, stronger than me, I think, and you aren't going to die. I know you aren't. But, you know, even if you did die tomorrow, you wouldn't be unmissed. I'd miss you, and I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me. And Potter and Granger and them would be upset, too, because they're just like that." This solicited a small wet laugh from Tracey.

He continued, following a pattern now, a little more confident as he held her shaking shoulders. "But you don't have to worry about that because you're going to be okay. I know you, and you're smart, and you are going to be just fine. And I'm going to be alright, too, now. And I'm sorry I keep upsetting you. But we're both going to be fine. You know that? We're going to be fine." He paused, realizing that he was almost comfortable, sitting here and comforting his old friend.

"Because things are only getting better now; the war's over and it's all getting better. And everything is going to be alright. It's all going to work itself out, I promise. We'll be fine and everything will work out.

"Everything is going to be alright."


End file.
